


A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

by blueberryreaction



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Manipulation, Painful Sex, Painplay, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryreaction/pseuds/blueberryreaction
Summary: Elgar’nan stepped closer, two gentle fingers sliding under Solas’s chin to tilt his face up. “Is this disrespect, Dread Wolf?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He was close, far too close, the power radiating off of him. Solas let himself be moved.“Never, All-Father,” Solas said politely, face neutral. Elgar’nan had never been this close to him before, let alone touched him. Yet here he was as if he had been waiting.“And yet it feels like disrespect.”“It would hardly be appropriate, my lord, if I was to show you further obeisance than your lady wife. I am, after all, her creature.” Solas made to duck his head respectfully but Elgarn’nan’s hand still rested there, the smoothness of his nails pressed against Solas’s skin like a threat.“You are that. She is far too permissive with you for my taste, too willing to turn a blind eye.Her prideful thing.You are very lucky she adores you.” The words, delivered quietly, carried the weight of a sword over his head. Solas held very still.
Relationships: Elgar'nan/Solas
Kudos: 11





	A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

**Author's Note:**

> [shows up to a fandom 6 years late wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying Red Bull and vodka in a Starbucks cup]
> 
> I don't know why I wrote this. It's been kicking around my head for... months now. I'm just obsessed with ideas about Solas's internal life because we got so little of it in canon. I'm also completely in love with his early concept art, which is what I based his look on in this fic.
> 
>  **AN IMPORTANT NOTE** : I went back and forth between whether this was dubcon or if it rose to the level of noncon. While I don't know if it does quite reach that level, it is incredibly close. If that is likely to trigger you, please use the back button. Please mind the tags. There is also slight feminization language but not enough to tag for. For more details with potential spoilers, see the end notes.

The lights in the corridor were dim, most of the glow coming from outside the stone arches. The sky was alight with stars, both natural and not, and the crystal pathways twining through the trees shone far above. Solas strode over the smooth stone floors, the marble casting reflections in all directions, disrupting the shadow before him as he headed deeper into darkness. 

He knew he wasn’t alone far before he saw anyone, for who could miss the power that hung around Elgar’nan like a cloak. The man, for he was just that for all his delusions of grandeur, stood before a row of mirrors. The farthest had been Solas’s planned destination, the easiest way to find the Crossroads that led to Mythal’s southernmost temple, but he stopped short. 

“All-Father,” Solas said, bowing. It technically wasn’t as deep as it should have been but Solas was in a foul mood, having been sent across Elvhenan to find a single escaped criminal that Mythal herself had condemned. He had been looking forward to the man’s execution just so he could be done with the whole thing. At any other time, with any other member of the Evanuris, it would have been an unremarkable lapse. 

But Elgar’nan, it seemed, was in the mood to play. 

When Solas rose, Elgar’nan stepped closer, two gentle fingers sliding under Solas’s chin to tilt his face up. Goosebumps rose on Solas’s arms at the touch. “Is this disrespect, Dread Wolf?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He was close, far too close, the power radiating off of him. Solas let himself be moved. 

“Never, All-Father,” Solas said politely, expression neutral. Elgar’nan had never been this close to him before, let alone touched him. He had always kept aloof except in battle and he had not ventured into the field in centuries. Yet here he stood as if he had been waiting like a spider perched on a web. 

“And yet it feels like disrespect.” There was no anger there, only a slight challenge. 

“It would hardly be appropriate, my lord, if I was to show you further obeisance than your lady wife. I am, after all, her creature.” Solas made to duck his head respectfully but Elgarn’nan’s hand still rested there, the smoothness of his nails pressed against Solas’s skin like a threat. 

“You are that. She is far too permissive with you for my taste, too willing to turn a blind eye. _Her prideful thing_. You are very lucky she adores you.” The words, delivered softly, carried the weight of a sword over his head. Solas held very still. 

“I aim to do her credit.” 

“As attack dogs go, she could hardly ask for better.” 

Solas couldn’t tell if the words were meant to humiliate or infuriate. Both seemed likely, knowing Elgar’nan as well as he did by now. But Solas had heard far worse and kept his expression a polite mask. “I am pleased to be of use.” 

The smirk that twisted Elgar’nan’s lips sent a similar twist through Solas’s stomach. “Are you, little wolf? Pleased to be of use?” 

“For as long as my lady wills it, my lord,” Solas answered, pretending he didn’t hear the allusion in Elgar’nan’s tone. 

“What if your lord wills it?” 

There was no good answer, not when Elgar’nan had already caught him up for disrespect. What he wanted to say was that the All-Father could take his hands and his innuendos straight to the Void but that would get him banished, like as not. He could hardly hold Mythal up as a shield, already easily sidestepped by Elgar’nan. But that didn’t mean that he was without options. If Elgar’nan wanted to play games, Solas was well-acquainted with the rules. He had played this particular game before. 

“I am at my lord’s service,” he said, taking a half-step closer so Elgar’nan’s hand slipped further down his throat. The smirk grew as Elgar’nan shifted from two fingers just resting there to gentle fingers wrapped loosely around his throat. He was certain that Elgar’nan could feel his heartbeat as blood moved through his all-too-fragile carotid under the man’s grip. Solas tried to keep its beating steady, his breathing measured. 

Elgar’nan used his hold to push Solas backwards, his feet moving to keep up with Elgar’nan’s pace or else be dragged. His head hit the stone of the wall with an audible noise, Solas trying not to wince at the pain even as tears prickled in his eyes. The All-Father, used to this power, watched his face in the dim light. Solas raised his eyes to Elgar’nan’s, meeting his challenge. There was only an inch or two between their heights but his power made him look titanic. But Solas had felled larger. 

“There really is nothing you wouldn’t do for advancement, is there?” Solas did not answer, the question whispered into his ear as Elgar’nan crowded close, his intentions clear. What was there to say? Then Elgar’nan let go, stepping away entirely. Solas stayed where he had been put. “But I have kept you from your responsibilities long enough. I believe that there are condemned whose lives belong to your teeth.” 

“Yes, All-Father,” Solas said steadily, Elgar’nan’s eyes trailing down his throat as he swallowed. 

“Go, then. We will discuss this further upon your return.” 

Then the All-Father was gone, slipping through an eluvian with preternatural grace. At the last second, a wisp of a spirit slipped from him, staying behind. It floated up to Solas, who held out his hand for it to light on like a bird. Instead, it rubbed against his finger before twisting up his arm to rest on his shoulder, spreading over it like the softest of fabrics. 

“Are you to be a spy, little one?” he asked it. “Do you watch me on his behalf? What have you learned at his side?” 

The spirit was too little, too unformed, to speak but shivered against his shoulder. It wasn’t quite an answer but he supposed there was nothing he could do about it either way. Ignoring his newest tagalong, he stepped through a different eluvian than Elgar’nan had taken. 

The All-Father had been right: there were deaths that awaited him. 

Solas returned to Mythal’s side with his bloody work done, her will carried out. She was holding court when he arrived and he took great pleasure in ignoring every soul in the room to stride to his lady’s side. Mythal bade him sit next to her and tell the tale of her condemned’s last hours. He did so, posture perfectly correct when he knelt at her side, as he felt jealous eyes bore into his skin. He was not born noble, had been raised up to her side when she had noticed him as a student. Every person in that room wanted to be named to the Evanuris and would cut down any in their way; that ambition was perhaps the only thing he shared with them. 

Mythal casually, possessively, brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead. “You’ve done well,” she said. 

“Thank you, my lady.” 

She smiled at him, a small thing that didn’t reach her eyes, and turned away. He was dismissed. She was distracted, which meant that he had missed something while he’d been away. Even in death, these criminals were hindering him. Now he was stuck playing catch-up. Solas bowed to Mythal again as he stood and then strode quickly out of the room. Emithas should be in Solas’s chambers now, he had a lover amongst Mythal’s body servants, they would know something of what was wrong... 

This thought was cut short when a door opened onto the path. 

Mythal always held her audiences in her palace amongst the trees. They were perhaps two or three hundred feet off the ground, the crystal of the bridges and the corbels sounding like chimes when the wind moved through. At the other end of the pathway were her private chambers, guarded at all times. Solas had been heading in the opposite direction, morning sun forming rainbows through the crystal prisms before him, when the door opened. 

“You’ve returned, little wolf.” 

Goosebumps rose on Solas’s arms against his will and he crossed his wrists behind him as he turned to face Elgar’nan, bowing to him properly. Elgar’nan approached, his movements slow and measured. The black armor only added to the image of him as a spider, his armor glittering like hungry eyes, always watching for the right moment to strike. 

“I have, All-Father.” 

The little wisp that had attached itself to Solas withdrew and crept back to Elgar’nan’s side, sliding slowly up his armor until it was indistinguishable. Elgar’nan ignored it entirely, choosing to keep moving towards Solas until there was scarcely a foot between them. 

“I have a proposal for you,” he said when he was right before Solas. “I believe you shall find it worth your while. Walk with me.” Then Elgar’nan strode away, knowing that Solas would follow obediently. It took Solas but a few seconds to reclaim his place near Elgar’nan. The path permitted two to walk side by side and he did so, though it was presumptuous beyond words to walk next to the All-Father as an equal. But Elgar’nan said nothing, only watched Solas study him with growing amusement. 

“I have been made aware of your studies. I was curious about you.” 

“My lord flatters me,” Solas said, actually managing to sound pleased. This was a different game than the one he thought Elgar’nan had been playing and he shifted to adapt. 

“This Vir Dirthara... if it succeeds, it could raise your status enough to be offered a place among the Evanuris.” Elgar’nan looked over him with that knowing glance; Solas kept his head inclined as he accepted the compliment. 

“That would be an honor few could ever dream of.” 

“Oh, many dream of it. Few achieve it.” He stopped in the middle of another crystal bridge, turning to look Solas in the eyes. The chimes sounded as the bridge swayed gently, the only sound except for the call of birds and the rush of the river far below them. No one would hear them from here unless they shouted. “The concept is sound. But you cannot do it alone, not in any less time than a thousand years.” 

Solas kept Elgar’nan’s gaze steadily. He was aware of the project’s limitations, of his own. He knew the time that it would take. “You have looked into my study of the Fade, of the ability to harness it into a living library, and found it sound?” 

“Yes. Your mind is your greatest gift and I would see it utilized. Mythal wastes your talents by using you as nothing but a killer. A general, a leader of men, perhaps, but not her personal bounty hunter.” 

“I would not speak ill of my lady,” Solas said immediately. It didn’t matter that he agreed, that his time would be better spent on his studies or on an actual battlefield. If this was a trap, it was an obvious one. But Elgar’nan waved away his words with a dismissive movement of his hand. 

“I do not ask you to. But you could be more. I would help.” Solas froze, watching Elgar’nan watch him. “You need wealth and you need hands. I have both.” 

“And you would grant me access to both?” he asked carefully. “That is exceedingly kind of my lord.” 

Elgar’nan laughed, his grin as sharp as any blade. “Kind? Liar.” 

“Generous, then.” 

“Mm. And how would you repay such generosity?” Solas settled into the role he had to play, the rules of the game becoming clear around him. Sex as currency, a transaction. It wasn’t a coin he paid in often but Elgar’nan certainly wouldn’t be the first. He met Elgar’nan’s fierce smile with a coyly neutral expression of his own. 

“In whatever way my lord required of me.” 

Elgar’nan seized a handful of dark hair and dragged him forward, biting Solas’s bottom lip in a possessive kiss where anyone could have seen them, his arm wrapping around Solas’s lower back to hold him tight to his body. Solas wasn’t so stupid as to fight back, nor to imagine that this hadn’t been witnessed. There was nothing for it now but to let Elgar’nan open his mouth and take what he wanted. Solas’s cock twitched between them, taking an interest in the proceedings. Elgar’nan wasn’t unaware, as pressed together from thighs to chest as they were, judging by the way that Elgar’nan smirked against Solas’s mouth. 

As quickly as the All-Father had held him, he let Solas go. Trying not to stumble, Solas righted himself and pretended he didn’t taste the copper of his own blood in his mouth. 

“I want you outside my chambers at sundown,” Elgar’nan told him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he said, quietly, dangerously, “Do not make me come find you.” 

“All-Father,” Solas replied with a bow, the same one that had started this whole thing. Elgar’nan chuckled softly, that vicious grin still in place, before turning away without a word. Solas didn’t let himself touch his still-bleeding lip until Elgar’nan was out of sight. 

The sun would not touch the horizon for another quarter hour when Solas arrived outside Elgar’nan’s chambers. The guard stationed there, a warrior as fierce as any who had fought under the All-Father's command, flicked his eyes across Solas and clearly found him wanting. Solas ignored him; this man’s opinion didn’t matter, not in any way that Solas should concern himself with. They remained in a silent standoff for long minutes before the guard stood aside from the door and let Solas pass. They hadn’t exchanged a word but that didn’t mean that the guard had no idea what Solas was here for. 

Solas settled into his role like donning a cloak, a shield under which he could bury himself. He strode through the empty antechamber like he wanted to be there, like he was strolling through the gardens. Usually this room was filled with people, servants and slaves waiting to jump at Elgar’nan’s orders. It seemed that he didn’t require an audience this evening, a kindness that Solas wasn’t sure he’d get. He stopped outside the door to Elgar’nan’s bedroom, the furthest room from the door to the outside. They wouldn’t be disturbed, not here. 

He waited for a few long moments, gathering himself and letting the part he would play sink into his bones, before knocking. The door swung open at the lightest touch and Solas stepped over the threshold to find Elgar’nan standing by his desk, a glass of wine in one hand and what looked like a letter in the other. Curiosity pulled at him like gravity, itching to know what was on the page, but it was tempered by wisdom. He was on thin ice here, even without being accused of spying. 

“All-Father,” Solas said in greeting. He barely bowed at all, blatant disrespect that Solas wore like it was teasing. Elgar’nan had seemed to like him coy. It was a gambit that paid off when Elgar’nan put aside the letter to let his hot gaze fall on Solas. 

“You did not make me come and find you. I am a little disappointed.” 

“I can leave if you like,” Solas said with an arched eyebrow. “I hadn’t thought the All-Father was interested in a game of hide and seek.” 

“But you’re here now,” Elgar’nan said, stalking towards him, a predator’s languid grace twisting Solas’s stomach in knots. “If you were to leave now, I would only have to chase you. Do you wish to be prey, little wolf?” The words were accompanied by Elgar’nan grabbing Solas’s chin in a harsh grip, Elgar’nan’s thumb resting on Solas’s still swollen lip. 

“I am a hunter by birth, my lord,” Solas said, letting heated challenge show in his eyes. “I’m afraid I’d make very poor prey.” 

Elgar’nan used his thumb to drag Solas’s lip down. He felt the fragile new skin split and the bleeding start anew. “I would not be so sure of that, little wolf.” Solas was saved from having to answer by Elgar’nan leaning in to suck the swollen lip into his mouth, biting down again. His hand came up on instinct to clench Elgar’nan’s collar in his grasp, though he wasn’t sure if he meant to keep him close or shove him away. Elgar’nan was no longer in his full armor, having replaced it with spelled robes. Gold and silver embroidery shifted and swam over black dragon webbing, constellations forming and reforming as he moved. Solas could feel the magic under his palm and wished for his own. 

He himself had dressed simply in deep green woolen robes, not daring to wear anything that provided defense lest Elgar’nan take it as an invitation to violence. He knew his own strength, knew that there were very few more capable warriors than himself amongst his peers, but Elgar’nan was not his peer, was acknowledged ruler of the Evanuris and held several thousand years more experience. In a direct fight, Solas would be dead before he even drew a weapon. 

This fight was anything but direct, a battle of bending without breaking. Solas had a role to perform, a goal to achieve. If letting Elgar’nan have him gave Solas the Vir Dirthara, his life’s work realized, then it was a small price to pay. But he had nothing but Elgar’nan’s word that he would deliver and no means of recourse if he changed his mind. Solas had to keep him from changing his mind. 

Elgar’nan released Solas’s mouth and stepped away, Solas’s hand dropping from his shoulder. The All-Father looked at him appraisingly, circling around his back while Solas stood deathly still. “Off,” he said, plucking at the shoulder of Solas’s robes as he reappeared in his peripheral vision. Silently, Solas undid the outer robe and let it fall away. Elgar’nan’s lips twitched into a smirk before it smoothed again, casually indifferent. “All of it, little wolf.” 

Solas’s stomach dropped, anger and humiliation and arousal roiling together inside him. His hands moved to yank open the ties of his shirt when Elgar’nan’s voice stopped him. “Slower.” Solas’s chest felt like it was filled with hot coals, burning him from the inside out. His hands slowed but Elgar’nan didn’t stop circling like a carrion bird. Once he pulled his shirt over his head, Solas startled when Elgar’nan placed a hand on his waist from behind him, sliding it up to take a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it until it peaked. “All of it,” he repeated directly into Solas’s ear, his chest pressed to Solas’s back. Solas calmed his breathing, knowing that the All-Father could feel every shaky exhale, as he shoved his trousers down his hips. Elgar’nan helped them fall further and Solas kicked them away. 

He felt Elgar’nan’s breath on his neck and tilted his head obligingly to let him have better access. Elgar’nan’s right hand was still splayed over Solas’s chest but his left moved slowly from Solas’s hip down to his cock, taking him in hand firmly. Solas jerked, only pushing himself back further in the circle of Elgar’nan’s arms. “You didn’t even need my touch, did you?” he asked, mouth right against Solas’s left ear as he peered over his shoulder to watch his own hand move over Solas’s cock. “Already half hard for me.” 

Solas didn’t reply, having no words that weren’t cruel or humiliating. Elgar’nan didn’t seem to be in the mood to push Solas to speak, enjoying the sound of his own voice too much. His hand didn’t stop moving as he spoke. “I should have known, I suppose. I spoke with Andruil. The whole court knows you warm her bed.” 

“Not for a while, my lord,” Solas said, voice sounding choked in his own ears. He felt Elgar’nan chuckle against the skin of his throat. 

“No, I suppose not. No use for you since she took up with Ghilan’nain.” 

It shouldn’t have hurt; he didn’t love Andruil, didn’t particularly even like her. When she had stopped summoning him, he didn’t mind, having already gotten what he wanted out of their arrangement. She had learned cruelty at her father’s knee and wielded it like a weapon. But trapped in her father’s arms, his hand on Solas’s cock, he felt... used. That he was little more than a toy to them was something he had known but hearing it... 

He was pulled forcefully out of his thoughts by teeth sinking into the fragile skin at the base of his throat, breaking under the pressure. Solas cried out before he could stop himself, too surprised to stop it. Elgar’nan laughed, a cruel sound, as he licked over the mark he had just made. “You twitched in my hand, little wolf. You could have just told me that you enjoyed pain. I would have humbly obliged.” 

Solas swallowed hard, pulling himself back together. He tilted his head slowly, baring his throat to Elgar’nan. “So beautifully obedient,” he whispered against Solas’s skin. “I should have known you would be. What use is an attack dog that doesn’t obey?” He gave one last suck over the bite mark, ensuring it would be livid for days, before stepping back. “On your knees.” 

He went down easier than he wanted to admit, feeling unsteady on his feet when Elgar’nan had let him go. On his knees, he stared at stunning fractals of crystal floors, not daring to look up. He could feel Elgar’nan’s presence without seeing him and he doubted that the All-Father would be willing to keep his hands to himself for long. Solas tried not to tremble as he waited. 

It felt like eons but couldn’t have been more than a minute before Elgar’nan stepped in front of Solas, scarcely inches away. “Take me out.” Solas felt like he was on fire, every inch of him burning with rage, with humiliation, with arousal. He did as he was told, moving aside Elgar’nan’s robes to pull his cock from his trousers. It was not the longest Solas had ever seen but it was thick, thick enough to send a spike of trepidation through him. He didn’t imagine Elgar’nan had any intention of being gentle. “Use your mouth,” he ordered, nothing more than Solas was expecting. He opened his mouth to guide it past his lips but Elgar’nan caught his chin in a harsh grip, thumb and forefinger pressed hard against the hinge of his jaw. A little noise of pain escaped his throat. “I said your mouth, little wolf, not your hands. Put them behind your back.” 

Solas swallowed hard but did as he was told, crossing his wrists above his tailbone. He tried to jerk away when he felt ice enclose his wrists, binding them together, but Elgar’nan still had a tight hold on Solas’s face. “Try again.” 

He twisted his wrists on instinct, lashing out against being bound. Magic rose in him to break them, destroy them, but he caught it at the last moment. He _could_ break his bindings but that didn’t mean it was a good idea. Settling himself, reining in the instinctual panic, Solas parted his lips and Elgar’nan let him go. 

Elgar’nan’s cock was not yet fully hard when Solas leaned forward to mouth at it, tonguing the head where it peeked out of his foreskin. His movements were clumsy; it had been a long time since he’d done this and never without the use of his hands. He didn’t want to think about what he looked like, naked and bound on his knees while trying desperately to get the other man’s cock past his lips. He didn’t want to think about how much he liked it. “I would have thought a whore like you would be better at this,” Elgar’nan said from above him. 

Solas would rather have had the All-Father kick him. 

The world had reduced down to the man before him and the tremor in his own bones. He could feel himself shaking, though whether fury or arousal was the culprit he couldn’t have guessed. Both warred within him. He was still hard, even after all this, and he hated himself for it. Ducking his head forward, he twisted the right way to get the spongy head of Elgar’nan’s cock past his lips. It rested on his tongue as he bobbed his head, his jaw already aching at the girth of it. He was very out of practice. Elgar’nan took a fistful of hair but did not use it to move him nor to hold him in place, though the sharp pinpricks of individual strands being pulled out brought tears to his eyes. Solas sucked and bobbed, careful to keep his teeth clear. “Better,” Elgar’nan praised, fingers tight against Solas’s skull. 

Solas kept his movements steady, taking Elgar’nan deeper with every bob of his head. After a few minutes, a small eternity to Solas, Elgar’nan seemed to get bored. He kicked Solas’s knees further apart, making Solas suddenly very aware of how much they ached from their treatment. His foot traced down the line of the inside Solas’s knee as he placed a foot between Solas’s spread thighs just to press his shin against Solas’s cock, shifting so that friction sent pleasure through his cock and sac. Solas was sure he would have made a noise if Elgar’nan didn’t immediately follow up his movement by using his hold on Solas’s hair to shove his cock in as far as it would go. 

His body thrashed, aborted little movements that Solas’s rational mind tried to stem. He breathed through his nose and tried to ignore the ache in his throat as Elgar’nan kept the pace with his shin. When he stopped, Solas’s hips moved automatically themselves, chasing the pleasure. Everything hurt except that spark of pleasure, for once not stemming from the sickening way that Elgar’nan touched him, spoke to him. 

Still keeping a firm grip on Solas’s hair, Elgar’nan pulled Solas away from him only to press his shin firmly against Solas’s cock. “I knew you wanted this but this shameful display...” He shook his head pityingly, as if the man had ever felt pity in his long life. “I’m sure you would prefer this to stay just between us, yes? How would the All-Mother appear if everyone knew her attack dog, her darling Dread Wolf, was nothing more than a bitch in heat when you got him on his knees?” 

Solas’s hands balled into fists, twisting in their binding. He was very glad that Elgar’nan was no longer in his mouth; he might have bit Elgar’nan, with the way he clenched his teeth at the All-Father's voice, and that might actually have gotten him killed. Elgar’nan narrowed his eyes down at him, pulling on Solas’s hair so that he had no choice but to look up at him. After a few moments, he made a sound of disgust. Maybe he’d been hoping Solas would reply or maybe it was just another act in a long line of humiliations. Solas didn’t know and didn’t particularly care. Somewhere along the way, the goal had shifted from getting what he needed for the Vir Dirthara to getting through this without making the All-Father his enemy. 

With a casual carelessness, Elgar’nan brought Solas’s mouth back towards him, using his hand to guide his cock back between the other man’s lips. He thrust forward a few times, pulling back sharply, as if trying to carve out a space for himself. Without warning, he shoved forward until Solas’s nose rested against his pelvis. 

Calming the panic in his chest, Solas breathed through his nose and held still. He swallowed, as hard as it was with the head of Elgar’nan’s cock nearly in his throat, and Elgar’nan made a noise of pleasure above him. Solas was horrified when his cock twitched in response, though luckily Elgar’nan didn’t seem to notice. He pulled back until just the head rested on Solas’s tongue, allowing him a moment to breathe. Then he thrust back in hard, gagging him for a moment, and then pulled back again. He set a pace that was slow but forceful. Solas had to assume that his throat would be bruised the next day and relaxed as well as he could to take it. 

“There you are,” Elgar’nan said tauntingly. “That’s the whore I expected.” The words hit him like a slap and he clenched his fingers hard to stop himself from reacting. But Elgar’nan didn’t seem to care if he had any encouragement. “I should keep you like this, have you hold me in your mouth while I get my work done. Would you not enjoy that? Wouldn’t it be simpler than your ambitions, all your scrabbling for power with the others?” 

Solas dug his nails into his palms to calm himself. Elgar’nan wouldn’t actually. He might go back on his word to complete the Vir Dirthara but he wouldn’t remove him from public life. At that, he knew, Mythal would object. He was useful; if he wasn’t, he would never have been allowed into her halls in the first place. Soldiers’ sons didn’t end up with the Evanuris without talent. 

Elgar’nan kept talking. “Perhaps that would temper your arrogance. You aspire beyond your station.” He pulled Solas off of his cock by the fierce grip on his hair, yanking on it to make Solas look at him. Something in his aspect... it didn’t soften, Elgar’nan wasn’t capable of that, but there was less cruelty. Understanding, maybe. Feigned kindness. All part of the Game. “You’ll have it, your ambitions. But you will serve me first.” 

He kept pulling, clearly intending that Solas stand. But with his hands behind his back, it was difficult to get his feet under him. Elgar’nan rolled his eyes but released the magic that bound Solas so he could stand. Not for long, however, as Elgar’nan threw him facedown onto the bed. “Hands and knees,” he ordered. 

Solas obeyed, seeing his wrists for the first time. They were red and bleeding in a few small lines, the uneven ice cutting as it had covered them. The skin was rough but wasn’t yet approaching frostbite. Little mercies. 

He felt hands on his hips, dragging him bodily until his knees where on the edge of the bed, his ass presented well. Two slick fingers entered him slowly but forcefully, the stretch painful. His arms shook and he went down on his forearms, forehead pressed to his interlocked fingers. Cold grew against his face and he jerked back as well as he could to see the ice shackles reform. The motion only served to show him back on Elgar’nan’s fingers, shoving them deeper than they’d yet achieved. Solas shut his eyes and tried to breathe slowly. 

He should have prepared himself before he came to Elgar’nan, he thought, a careless mistake. One he wouldn’t make again. The fingers twisted inside and he couldn’t stop the soft grunt of pain that leaked through gritted teeth. 

“You would have me believe you’ve never done this before,” Elgar’nan accused. “As if I do not know who you are, what you are. How much of my court has had a taste of you? We both know my daughter has. Has Dirthamen? I know you’re _friends_.” He sneered the last word, fingers still twisting and spreading as they thrust in and out. ‘Friends’ was an oversimplification of his relationship with Dirthamen but he didn’t imagine Elgar’nan actually cared. He leaned forward, draped himself over Solas’s back. The buckle in his robe dug into the small of Solas’s torso, jangling so harshly that he almost missed Elgar’nan’s filthily whispered question. “Have he and his bonded had you yet?” 

“No, my lord,” Solas bit out, much louder than the question was asked. He wouldn’t drag Dirthamen into this, not when this was his own doing. If Elgar’nan decided to get possessive, Dirthamen might pay the price. Solas’s insides turned to ice as solid as that around his wrists at the thought. _Possessive_. This would not be his last time with Elgar’nan, not until the man got bored. 

“But you want them to, don’t you?” Elgar’nan said quietly as a third slicked finger pressed against his hole before he had even adjusted to two. Solas felt himself tremble, a loss of control that hurt him just as much as the physical. “One in your mouth, one in your ass, and nothing for you to do but take it. You prefer it that way, don’t you?” Solas didn’t answer, too afraid that the pained noises he was biting back would come if he opened his mouth. The fingers in him twisted sharply and his back bowed as he pressed his forehead to his clasped hands again, heedless of the cold. 

Elgar’nan was silent as he fucked Solas with three fingers but that only made clearer the slick sounds of his hole and the way his panting sounded dangerously close to whimpering. Pleasure was mixing with the pain, a heady feeling that he felt himself getting lost in. Arousal was a haze in his mind and he almost forgot why he didn’t have a hand on himself, wasn’t chasing release at all costs. 

Solas clenched his teeth when Elgar’nan slowly pushed in a fourth finger, blunt nails scratching at silk sheets as a noise of pain was ripped from him. Elgar’nan stilled for a moment before laughing quietly; nausea grew in Solas at the sound. “How do you imagine you’ll take my cock when just my fingers have you moaning like that?” Solas barely heard him, focused only on pulling air into his lungs, trying to ignore the stretch in his ass. Elgar’nan didn’t require an answer and slowly fucked his fingers in and out, never fully removing them. The way that his thumb stroked the aching skin around Solas’s hole felt like a threat. Elgar’nan shushed him like he was gentling a hart. 

When Elgar’nan removed his fingers slowly, Solas couldn’t stop the shaky little noise that left him. Elgar’nan stood still behind him and Solas braced himself for what Elgar’nan would say, the words he would throw at him. But there was only silence until Elgar’nan held his cock firmly against Solas’s hole. “I want to hear you,” he told Solas, voice quiet but near-deafening in the silent room. “Let me hear you. Do not hide behind silence nor feigned pleasure. I would have honesty from you, little wolf.” 

Solas let out the breath he had been holding as he tried to be silent. Elgar’nan wouldn’t allow him even that cover, demanding Solas’s further vulnerability. _Isn’t it enough_ , he wanted to scream at him, _that I give you this? Is this not payment enough? Why must I show enjoyment of my own debasement? Honesty? You don’t know what the word means._

Still, he opened his mouth and tried not to think about anything but his own pleasure as Elgar’nan sunk inside him. His cock was wider than his fingers but it felt better, hotter. He felt like he was on fire, the All-Father's cock sliding into him far deeper than his fingers had managed. It brushed his prostate and Solas groaned, only vaguely aware of it. He tried to curl in on himself, succeeding only in arching his back. Elgar’nan laughed softly but said nothing. Solas’s mind attempted to engage, scrabbling for purchase like it skated over the crystal floors beneath them. He became aware, in a slow and distant way, of the dampness beneath his head. Had he been crying? Had he begun to sob, too far gone to be aware of it, as Elgar’nan moved slowly in and out of him? He opened his eyes to find the ice around his wrists gone, melted by his own magic. If Elgar’nan noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. 

The soft sound that he exhaled when Elgar’nan pulled out of him was swallowed by the sheets under him. Surprisingly gentle hands held Solas at the waist and upper chest, shifting him forward. Solas hadn’t realized how badly the muscles in his thighs ached until the tension released for a moment. The bed creaked as Elgar’nan joined him on it, draping himself over Solas’s back as he entered him again. This was everything that he hadn’t been before: silent, gentle, affectionate. He pressed a kiss to Solas’s shoulder and he shook underneath him. The cruel words, the pain, the humiliation, all of it had been better than this. Solas had no idea what any of this meant. 

With Elgar’nan on top of him, both of them pressed together on the bed, the friction against his cock was maddening. He had never flagged, no matter what obscenities Elgar’nan spat at him, and was horrifyingly close. Between the steady touch of the fabric on him, the cock hitting his prostate with startling accuracy, and the slow rocking pace Elgar’nan had set, it wouldn’t take much. He didn’t realize that his nails were dug into his palms until Elgar’nan’s fingers linked between his, forcing them to splay out. “None of that,” he whispered as his other hand moved under their shifting bodies to palm Solas’s cock. Solas groaned, shoving his hips back so that that hand had room to move. “Yes. Let me hear you. I want to know how you come with me inside you. I want to feel you shudder around my cock, want to hear what I do to you on your lips. And when you are sated, I will spill myself inside your perfect little cunt.” 

Solas cried out as he came, back bowing and muscles tensing. Elgar’nan’s hand didn’t stop moving, milking him until he was shivering with overstimulation. His fingers withdrew from Solas’s own, moving back to his hips, positioning him for Elgar’nan to fuck into until he came as well. With the haze of arousal that had fogged his mind fading, Solas came back to himself. He ached but there was nothing seriously wrong. His lip tasted of iron but that was likely his own doing. The bite on his shoulder stung but would heal with a minor spell. Physically, he was fine. But humiliation was a lead weight in his chest and it left him unable to move as Elgar’nan left him. He should move. He should leave. He should feign an illness or an emergency, anything to get him out of Arlathan for a time. Instead, he laid there and trembled as Elgar’nan silently placed Solas’s outer robe over his splayed body before the All-Father returned to his desk and the letter he had been reading. 

He wanted very badly to care what was in it but couldn’t summon the energy. When he could, he moved slowly to his feet. Bending to gather his clothing hurt so much that he almost dropped them. Healing magic was on his lips before he could even register it but Elgar’nan’s quiet voice stopped him. “No healing spells. I want to see how you bruise. I imagine it is beautiful.” Solas pressed his eyes closed for long moments as the words registered then dismissed the spell. So he wanted this to be public, to dangle their dalliance before the court’s eyes. Fine. That was the Game. 

When Solas was dressed, he bowed to Elgar’nan, who didn’t look up. “By your leave, All-Father,” he said, turning to go without waiting for a reply. 

“Solas,” he said neutrally and Solas froze. “Come here.” 

Solas went. 

He stood next to the table, posture as perfect as he could make it under the circumstances. Elgar’nan gave him an odd little smile before pulling Solas into a kiss. It wasn’t like the kiss on the bridge, filthy promise in public sight. It was tender and deep, that of a lover. Solas wanted to stab him. 

“Sleep well, little wolf,” he said as he stepped back. Turning back to his work, he didn’t look at Solas as he left. The same guard was standing outside the outer door; Solas barely even glanced at him, having no interest in what he would find on the man’s face. A superfluous pawn in the game. 

It was a very long walk from the crystal palaces of Arlathan to the stone halls below. Every step hurt but Solas was a soldier raised by soldiers. He never let his steps become unsteady. The sun had been set for long enough that twilight had slipped fully into midnight, the stars bright above him. Grounding himself by the touch of the breeze, the sound of quiet conversations, the occasional glance of a twisting and reveling spirit, he was able to bring himself back home. Emithas jumped to his feet when Solas came through the door, surprise turning to concern in a heartbeat. 

“Milord!” he said, hand already alight with healing magic as he reached for Solas. Solas caught him by the wrist firmly. 

“No.” 

Emithas swallowed hard but the glow faded and Solas let him go. “Are you... all right?” he asked cautiously. Solas nodded curtly. “Do you need anything?” 

“Warm water.” Emithas scrambled to fetch it. Usually, Solas didn't require much from him except any rumors from Mythal’s household. He was of much more use as a spy than a servant. But he seemed eager to help and Solas wasn’t too proud to admit, at least to himself, that he needed it. When Emithas came back with the water, Solas dismissed him. The water was freezing when he was done cleaning himself, too exhausted to heat it by magic. Shivering, he collapsed into bed. 

There was no point in hiding the marks on his face, his neck, his wrists. The All-Father had refused him healing and so he went to Mythal’s side with them on display. It was not the fully court that day, only a small audience with a noble who had been petitioning to get her property dispute decided by Mythal herself. Solas slipped into the room like a shadow, hanging back while the woman talked, tears glittering as prettily as the jewels in her hair. She sank to her knees in perfect obeisance when Mythal acquiesced to hear her in the sight of the full court. The woman was gone in a flutter of silken skirts, leaving knowing glances of those left behind. It was only Mythal’s close circle then, nobles that she trusted within reason, and her husband next to her on the dais. She held a hand out to Solas, which he strode over to take with a smile, sinking to his own knee and bowing over her hand. 

She tsked at him. “Have you come to make a request of me as well, Dread Wolf?” 

“Only that you tell me how I might serve you,” he said with a genuine smile. He did love her. He was honored by her fascination with him, by her support, but he also liked her. Mythal had no children, not any longer, and he had no mother, not in centuries. She put her fingertips on his cheek for a moment and he allowed himself a fleeting second to dream that those things were untrue. 

Solas looked away from her to find Elgar’nan staring at him. “All-Father,” he said, inclining his head. He stood from where he had been on one knee so there could be no pretending that the obeisance had been to him. Elgar’nan’s eyes narrowed in challenge, that familiar smirk playing about his lips. 

“Solas,” Mythal chided with a laugh. She was in good spirits today, much better than the distracted consideration of the day before. He kissed her ring, the knotted of heart of a sylvan embedded with silverite and formed to her finger. 

“The All-Father knows what it takes to get me to kneel,” he told her, the chime of her laugh answering. 

“Prideful thing,” she said fondly. “That pride will get you in trouble one day.” 

“I must be as you named me, my lady,” he said and was rewarded with another smile. She wasn’t capricious but she was often fickle, prone to fits of anger and depression. He had always been good at navigating the white-water rapids of her moods but this was the Mythal he loved most. 

Solas would have happily killed any man who accused him of loitering after being released from Mythal’s service but he did not make himself hard to find, nor was he surprised when Elgar’nan hauled him bodily away from the main corridor to slam him up against a wall. 

“Will you pretend you meant no disrespect this time, little wolf?” he snarled and Solas looked up at him, head tilted so Elgar’nan could see the marks him left on him. 

“I could have sworn you preferred me disrespectful.” 

“If you want me to take you again,” he said, voice nearly conversational as his thumb dug dangerously into Solas’s carotid, “you need only ask.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Solas asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Fun? Oh, little wolf. If you disrespect me in such a fashion again, you will beg for the forbearance I showed last night.” He squeezed and Solas struggled to breathe. “But I am not without mercy. My door is open to you.” 

Solas pushed down the shiver that threatened to overtake him. “I wish only to show my lord gratitude.” 

“Yes, yes. You will get your reward, Dread Wolf, worry not.” Elgar’nan brought his free hand up to tug at Solas’s collar until the bite mark, livid and painful, showed through, using his hold on Solas’s neck tilt his head so that he could see the mark clearer. “I believe this needs a twin. Above the collar this time, I think.” 

There was a shadow waiting outside Solas’s door when he approached. The hooded man looked like Death himself and was silent as the grave as Solas approached. “My lord,” he said, bowing properly. 

“Don’t,” the hooded man snapped. “Open the door.” 

Solas did as he was bid and the two men went inside. Emithas was elsewhere and so they were alone as Dirthamen drew back his hood. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my lord?” 

Dirthamen glared at him. “You were seen.” 

“Yes,” Solas said simply. He knew that they had to have been. It had been broad daylight when Elgar’nan had kissed him and he had passed many on his walk to and from Elgar’nan’s chambers. He had worn Elgar’nan’s marks on him all day. He didn’t need Elvhenan’s secretkeeper to tell him that they had been seen. 

“He did this to you?” Dirthamen demanded, though they were both clearly aware of the answer. Solas said nothing. “And you let him?” 

“I fail to see how it concerns you.” 

If looks alone could kill, Solas would be beyond saving. “You’re in tatters and you fail to see how it concerns me? We aren’t boys anymore, Solas. We’re not in competition,” Dirthamen snapped. 

Solas barked a laugh, a bitter noise. It hurt as it left his sore throat. “No, we are not that. My lord.” 

“Stop that. The Vir Dirthara will earn you a seat, we both know it, you just need...” Dirthamen trailed off, realization dawning on his face. It made Solas feel... mercenary. It had taken Dirthamen just minutes to realize that he had gone to Elgar'nan for what he could gain. “That’s why. What did he offer you?” In Solas's mind, he heard Elgar'nan whisper in his ear, telling him what a whore he was. He hadn't let the word affect him until then, seeing it repeated in his friend's eyes.

“I fail to see how it concerns you,” Solas repeated through clenched teeth, shame turning to anger. 

“It should have concerned me! You should have come to me, or to Falon’Din. I believe in this project; I believe in you." Solas stared at him, surprised almost out of his rage. They had never said anything like that to each other, ever as much rivals as they were friends. But Dirthamen didn't even hesitate over the sentiment. "This could be a true marvel. You don’t need him. When you took up with Andruil, I said nothing. You are a man grown and frankly, I trusted your judgment. Clearly that was a mistake.” 

Solas’s temper flared again, from a spark to a roaring flame. There was the Dirthamen he always known, the one who believed he knew everything. “You think you know better?” 

“Look at you! There are ways to the Evanuris that are not this.” Dirthamen's face was a mix of concern and frustration. It stabbed at Solas, pain turning him to an injured animal that savaged anything that got too close. Anger had a bad habit of making Solas cruel.

“Did you have such concerns when you fell into Falon’Din’s bed? Did you find other ways to the Evanuris?” 

Dirthamen went deathly still. Solas stood there, wanting to take the words back but refusing to. When Dirthamen spoke, it was with the icy grace of a glacier. “If you ever compare Elgar’nan to Falon’Din again, I will rip your tongue out. My husband is nothing like that man. And I earned my place without him.” Solas did his best to hide his flinch but didn’t apologize. Dirthamen inhaled slowly, mouth a hard line, and then exhaled just as slowly. “If you want to let him do this, fine. But when you are done playing these games, we may discuss the Vir Dirthara and our next move.” 

Then he was gone, the black cloak fluttered behind him like raven’s wings until the door shut. Solas collapsed heavily in a seat, his anger vanishing like smoke. For all Dirthamen's arrogance, he was dear to him. Solas didn’t have so many friends that he could risk alienating his closest and most powerful over a political gambit, especially not this one. Dirthamen would help him with the Vir Dirthara, regardless of Solas’s temper or Elgar’nan’s involvement, because he was a good man and because he knew a solid investment when he saw one. Soon, everything about this would be a speck of a memory, eclipsed by their achievement, by _Solas's_ achievement. Solas had everything under control. 

Solas may have been nothing more than a pawn but he would ensure that it was a pawn on which the whole game hinged. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN IMPORTANT NOTE, continued** : Solas is given subtle moments to give or deny consent before the sexual encounter happens but not during. He does choose to tacitly and knowingly encourage the encounter before and after, though the power differential renders even that consent dubious. While he is overwhelmed during, he doesn't give any real thought to trying to end things because 1) he still has a goal in mind and 2) because he isn't sure that Elgar'nan would respect a "no" if he heard one. Whether or not that second point is true matters less than that Solas believes it to be true. This story does not, however, include an explicit denial of consent. There is no discussion of boundaries or permissible acts before or after the encounter.
> 
> Headcanon Time with the author:  
> We don't know a ton about the Evanuris but my headcanon is that they worked a lot like the dwarven Paragons: you have to have done something to earn a place. Solas in this is essentially Mythal's executioner/assassin but not yet a full member. I love the idea that he wasn't born noble (though he was born free), a soldier like his father before him but so much better. In this, Solas and Dirthamen were educated together, plucked from obscurity together, although Dirthamen ascended first.  
> I refer to Andruil as Elgar'nan's daughter but not Mythal's; that's not based in canon at all, I just got it into my head that Sylaise and Andruil are Elgar'nan's daughters with someone else. In this, Mythal had three daughters of her own but one died before Solas was born in circumstances he doesn't know and the other two died in the first incursions against the Titans.


End file.
